


Just This Once

by spacegayofficial



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Humiliation, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sort of an AU, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, damen? i dont fucken know, dom!Ezra, i didnt intend for this to become a multipart thing, idk where this is gonna go but we'll find out together, reader gets caught masturbating, reader isn't cee; assume she and damon dont exist lmao, vague description of a creampie because I'm a beacon of sin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegayofficial/pseuds/spacegayofficial
Summary: Despite your initial hostility towards each other, you and Ezra become unexpected partners. And unfortunately for you, you can't stop thinking about his voice and the way it changed during an encounter gone wrong.
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect)/Reader, Ezra/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Just This Once

“Open it.”

You threw the dulled plastic case down at the man at the other end of your weapon. He looked genuinely scared, yet confused. You pushed your thrower against his helmet again.

“Just… open it.”

He nodded and complied, unlocking it swiftly. You snached it back from him, giving him a smile, and opened the case to reveal a handful of good-sized gems. That’s enough. Contract be damned. It was going to be too much trouble, anyway, and you honestly just wanted to get off this forsaken rock. Your father may have taught you to find and harvest this stuff, and he would go after the opportunity, but you knew when you were getting in over your head. When your pod had a near-crash landing, you knew in your gut this wasn’t going to go well.

Out of the corner of my eye you saw the large, quiet person this man was with reach for something, but you quickly shot him one, two, three times until he fell to the ground, unmoving. You clenched your jaw. Didn’t really want to do that, but you were making it out of this toxic place alive.

“Nice working with you,” you mused at this stranger, and took off running back towards the lander you came in.

Was this the best plan? No, it wasn’t, you’d be the first to admit that. People were protective of their aurelac, and that was putting it lightly. If you didn’t make it out of here soon, this guy would be after you and probably kill you for what you did. So, you ran like your life depended on it, because it did. It very much did. You made it back to the lander in record time, occasionally looking over your shoulder to make sure that no one was following you.

You quickly climbed in, shedding your suit, taking a breath of the cool air the small room provided. The air in your suit was hot, humid, and stale thanks to the filter. You kept your thrower tucked in the waistband of your pants, just in case. You started the liftoff procedure, the well-worn instruction manual gripped in your hands before you. As you flipped switches and knobs, you thought to yourself about your haul. That would be… what, a hundred thousand? Two? Plenty. More than enough. An explosion brought you out of your thoughts, and sparks flew behind you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mumbled under your breath, your head falling back on the headrest in defeat. Unbelievable. This thing truly was a piece of garbage. You undid all the liftoff settings and got up. You’d have to fix it, there wasn’t another option. The deal with those mercs didn’t include transport, and you’d be hard-pressed to renegotiate the terms now.

You found your headphones, slipping them on to listen to music while you tried your best to repair the ship. You were pretty good at fixing things; it’s part of what’s gotten you this far without anyone to rely on. Your mother died when you were young, and your father died doing what you were determined not to do: getting in over his head. Indeed, the end of the rush on this very moon. Since then, you’d been alone.

You had your arms deep in the electronics of the pod, your music blaring in your ears, so you didn’t hear it when someone opened the hatch. You didn’t hear when someone came in. But you felt it when someone snatched your thrower out of our waistband and pressed it to the back of your head. Shit. You slowly raised your hands, taking your headphones off in the process.

“I believe you have in your possession something that belongs to me, little bird.”

You gritted your teeth and turned slowly, unable to find any excuse to what you did. You had stolen this man’s gems, outright, no talking your way around it. He took the helmet of his suit off as you finally faced him. You looked directly in his eyes, keeping your mouth shut, wanting to see what he’d do. If he’d just kill you, or if you could bargain your life in exchange for something. You raised your eyebrows expectantly. You’d learned on your short walk with him earlier he was quite talkative.

“Not quite as bold now, hm?” he questioned.

“I know when I’ve been made,” you answered quietly, but confidently.

He nodded, considering your words, a wry smile on his face. You’re smarter than you look. Static seemed to fill the room. He kept the thrower aimed at your head, and you kept your hands raised, waiting for him to do something. Anything. The faint melody of the music you were listening to escaped your headphones around your neck and bled into the air. You stared each other down, trying to read any and all emotion, intention, desire. What felt like an entire rotation went by before another word was spoken.

“I’d appreciate it if you would return that to me.”

“It’s nice to want things.”

He pressed the weapon to your forehead a little harder, re-asserting his control of the situation.

“Alright, alright, but what do I get out of it?” you asked, staying as still as possible, the only movement in the entire pod the rise and fall of your chests as you breathed.

“You’re not in the most favorable position to negotiate,” he said, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“You won’t be able to find the case if you kill me,” you countered. That might not be entirely true, sure, but you needed to get out of this. Maybe you were already in over your head, no mercs or contract work necessary. You started to methodically consider your options, how you might be able to make a deal with this man to get you off of this moon.

You searched his face for any sign of cooperation, but his expression remained unchanging, still determined, still threatening. So that’s how this was going to be.

“Ezra, right?” you asked, proving you were listening to him earlier, despite his annoyingly confusing vocabulary. “What do you say I give you your case back, and you get me off this rock?”

Hoping your proposition distracted him enough, you moved quickly, disarming him, sending him stumbling back, falling to the floor. You changed your grip on the gun, aiming it at his arm and squeezing. He shouted out in alarm and pain. Satisfied, you slipped your weapon back in your waistband, hoping this sent the message as to how serious you were about surviving this, getting out of here.

“What the fuck was that about?” he shouted at you, stumbling back and sitting on a bench, holding his bleeding arm.

“You don’t get to point my own gun at my head and not expect consequences,” you replied, placing your hands on your hips and looking at him, unmoving from your spot.

“You got a field kit?”

“Are you going to get me out of here?”

“Field kit! Then we can talk!”

You sighed, but this really was the least you could do. You did shoot the man, after all. Did he deserve it? Maybe not, but he did invade your personal space and hold a gun to your head. You rummaged around for the field kit and set it next to him. He flipped it open, quickly digging through the supplies. You watched in horror as he didn’t even bother taking off his suit before dumping some of the antiseptic into the wound.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, flabbergasted, finding yourself stumbling forward, wanting to stop him before he caused more damage to himself than you already did. He was your ticket out of here, after all. He looked at you, completely surprised himself.

“You’re quite capricious,” he said, his brow furrowed, watching you tug the field kit away from him.

“Look, this thing ain’t gonna fly, I need a way out of here, and you’re it,” you said hastily. “Take your arm out of your suit, you actually need to clean that out.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. That asked a question he didn’t need to verbalize.

“I did it to you, now I’m going to fix it,” you said, answering the unspoken question. “Take your arm out!”

He moved to comply, hissing a little as he moved his limb out of the suit he was wearing. You grabbed the rest of the antiseptic and took his arm as soon as it was out, brushing away some burnt fabric bits and other debris around the wound before pouring the antiseptic over it, properly cleaning it. He hissed in pain, the antiseptic stinging nearly worse than being shot in the first place.

You figured you could at least distract him while you continued to clean and dress the wound. “How long have you been out here?” you asked.

“Far too long,” he answered, a dark tone in his voice. You wondered for a moment what he’d been through.

You found the bandage foam and took out the plastic piece to open the reservoir. You looked up at him, knowing this was not going to feel good. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he responded, closing his eyes. You didn’t bother counting down or anything, you just went for it. You took an odd satisfaction in the strained groan that came from his throat as you sprayed the sealant on his wound. His breathing slowly steadied, and you handed him a few of the painkillers that were in the field kit. You found a patch to repair the hole in his suit, pressing the sticky vinyl material over the hole while it was still off of his arm, ensuring a good seal.

“I underestimated you, little bird,” he said, slipping his arm back in his suit, leaning back against the wall, still trying to catch his breath.

“I’d say so,” you quipped back, taking a few steps back and sitting on the floor across from him, still ready to grab your weapon if needed. You doubted, somehow, that he would try anything at this point.

“I’d love to assist in getting you off of this moon,” he said, “but unfortunately, your assumption is incorrect.”

“What assumption?”

“That I am your saving grace in transporting you out of the Green,” he responded.

“You don’t have a ship?” you asked, shocked, and frankly panicked. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

He gave you a look that said the rest. Of course he didn’t have a fucking ship. Just perfect. You were stranded. Or you’d have to go to that contract. Both scenarios filled you with dread.

“But, you’re in luck,” he said. “If your narrative of the Queen’s Lair is true, and those mercenaries are still there, we may yet find ourselves able to abscond.”

You frowned. “Transportation wasn’t part of the contract.”

“So it is true?” he said, a smile spreading on his face. “Excellent.”

“If this is just about the aurelac--” you started, considering shooting him again.

“Far from that, birdie,” he interrupted. “You just happened to stumble upon the best negotiator in the Green.”

You squinted at him. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why did you dress my wound and fix my suit?”

“Fair enough.”

You got up, opening a cabinet in the wall of your pod, pulling out Ezra’s trophy case.

“Oh, one more thing,” he said. “My filter’s spent. I’m going to need a hookup.”

So that was that. You were unlikely partners with someone who definitely would’ve killed you given the chance, and you definitely would’ve killed if he gave you a reason to. You were taking a surprising liking to him, the stories he told of his time on the Green vivid, sometimes humorous, sometimes dark and upsetting. You started, much to your dismay, to worry about him from time to time because of the content of his tales. Liking him as a partner was one thing; that’s just being able to put up with him until you were out of this place. Worry, though, that was emotional, involved. Things you didn’t want to deal with. Things you couldn’t deal with.

Which is why, despite your initial panic when the zealots offered him an obscene amount of aurelac in exchange for you, you trusted him enough to keep your mouth shut despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t do that.

They told you no throwers were allowed in the small village they had--if you could even call it a village. You were immediately turned off to the idea of seeking help from them, but Ezra insisted. You two turned to stow away your weapons, but you had a thought, and you hoped your new partner would allow you to follow through with it.

“This is small enough I can hide it in my suit,” you said, hushed, as if you weren’t safely out of earshot of these people that gave you an extremely bad feeling.

Ezra raised his eyebrows at you. “The gentleman was quite explicit,” he responded.

“You really think it’s a good idea to just walk in there unarmed?”

“Well, of course not, but I do intend to get what we came here for, and I’m afraid if you betray their trust--”

“They don’t trust us,” you insisted. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

He held his hands up in resignation, and you stowed your weapon in a pocket with a handful of other things so it wouldn’t be obvious.

And god you were glad you did, because as soon as that guy opened the case and said what it was for, the bad taste in your mouth from the drink you just forced yourself to swallow turned even more bitter, and you looked at Ezra. He looked back, and you couldn’t make heads or tails of his facial expression. This sent you further into a panic, but you decided still to trust where this was going. You found your trust was not misplaced when he pressed his elbow into your side where your thrower was.

“I thank you again for inviting us in and assisting us so graciously, and this is… an extremely generous offer, to say the least,” Ezra said, evenly and pleasantly. “However, I regretfully must decline.” His tone changed as he ended his statement, a dark, almost sinister tone that sent an unfortunate shiver down your spine. You’d have to reconcile that with yourself later.

Still, you took it as your cue, and pulled your weapon, quickly and methodically landing shots in all of the people in the room. You scowled a bit as you realized you didn’t even hesitate in the act of shooting the boy. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to him, but there was also virtually no chance of him surviving out on this moon by himself. You didn’t give yourself much time to think about this moral conundrum, though, as both you and Ezra scrambled to replace your helmets, knowing there were more people outside. Once everything was secure and sealed so you wouldn’t breathe in any of the toxic particles suspended in this moon’s atmosphere, you nodded to each other. You stood upright, ready to shoot through anyone who tried to make their way into the small hut you were in, and Ezra gathered the rewards of your deed. Once he had everything in hand, you began to move together, quickly, the only people left in the village apparently a couple more zealots standing guard outside. They were quickly no longer, but you two still ran to where you had hidden your other weapons just in case. You arrived, panting, and a fuck ton richer than you were an hour ago.

“It appears I have underestimated you for a second time,” Ezra said, still catching his breath.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, looking over at him.

“You were right to bring that weapon with us,” he answered, that sly grin on his face. You genuinely didn’t think he intended to always look so suspicious, but he always seemed to look like he’d just gotten the upper hand in some argument you weren’t having.

“I told you,” you said, shrugging. You leaned over and started gathering your things, reassembling the pack you had and sliding it on. “You got the other stuff?”

He nodded. “I’m thinking we should consider finding refuge for the night posthaste,” he said. You wrinkled your nose a little at his choice of words. Something about the way he formed his thoughts had you rolling your eyes.

“Probably a good idea,” you responded, looking at him. “Preferably we walk a little while longer in case some more weirdos come crawling out of that settlement.” You gestured vaguely towards where you just ran from.

He nodded again, and you looked down at the map you had and oriented yourself with the surrounding environment. Eventually you pointed in the direction your end goal was, and you two started walking, a little faster than normal, trying to get the most out of the few hours of daylight that remained.

As you walked, a nagging in the back of your mind came to your attention. What the hell was with the way you reacted to his change in tone earlier? You already were trying not to feel any emotional attachment to this stranger, you certainly didn’t need to be fighting off any other feelings. You resolved that it was simply because you had been alone for so long, and finally working with another person was a little bit exciting. Sure, he was unfortunately good looking and you were fascinated with that blonde streak in his hair, but you were probably just projecting some long-bottled-up feelings of isolation in a weird way. That’s all it was, you assured yourself. Loneliness.

Ezra talked away as you two walked, this time telling some anecdote of someone accidentally exploding a dig because they laughed too hard at a crewmember’s joke and dropped their water bottle. Rough. You were hardly listening, honestly, just enough to keep him appeased, focused on navigating the two of you as far as you could get before nightfall. Eventually you found yourselves in a clearing, hidden away behind some trees and a rock formation. Perfect place to pitch a tent and settle in for the night. Just a little longer, and you’d be at your rendezvous with the mercs, and you’d be off this rock. Hopefully you could negotiate an even split with Ezra, maybe 55/45 for shooting him, then you’d part ways, no harm no foul.

You worked together to set up the tent, unfolding bits and pieces and clicking them in place, until a fairly sizable tent with two modest cots rolled out along the floor. You shed your suits, and took care of some chores, such as doing your best to clean your filters, recharging your throwers, and, best of all, eating something. Satisfied for the night, you settled into the somewhat uncomfortable cot, staring at the roof of the tent.

“Goodnight,” Ezra said.

You were fairly certain that was the first time he’d said less than two words to you at a time. “Night,” you responded.

You continued to stare at the plastic material of the tent aimlessly, not really able to fall asleep. Not completely unusual for you, especially being in a strange environment. You don’t sleep much when you’re out on jobs like this. You were tired, though, and frustrated you couldn’t fall asleep. But, of course, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and your devil was making something particularly annoying. Your mind kept replaying that change in tone Ezra had earlier. What was it about that you found so fascinating? Why did it make something spark somewhere deep in your belly? It was something about how quick he changed from open to bargaining to absolutely closed off, determined to get what he wanted. To keep you safe? No, you weren’t dumb enough to think that was why. Then that devil made a terrible suggestion. Maybe you wanted to be what he wanted. Maybe you wanted that dark tone telling you what he was going to do to you, telling you what to do to let him get what he wanted. You felt your face heat up, almost afraid the man across the tent from you could hear your thoughts as though you were broadcasting them to the entire Green.

You tried to stop thinking about this for a while. You really did try. But the heat between your legs grew, and you just kept going back to it. It was worthless, so you just gave in. Just this once, then you would drop it, never go back to it again. You were just lonely, and you didn’t want to take it out on this man you’d known for less than two days. Hell, you _shot_ him! But you could take it out on the thought of him. One time, you reminded yourself. Once. You listened for any sign that he might still be awake, even glancing over towards him. He had his back to you, his breathing even and slow. Good. Great. You’d get away with this, no problem.

Your hand slowly snaked down between your legs, sliding under your pants and underwear, almost surprising yourself with how wet you were already. You must’ve been thinking about that for longer than you thought. You brought your other hand up to cover your mouth, just in case; you could not risk waking him up. You dipped a finger into your entrance, capturing a little more of your slick, then came up, circling your clit gently but firmly. You just needed to get this out of your system, and then you’d be fine. Your eyes shut, and you imagined they were his fingers working over your sensitive bud, his voice in that dark, commanding tone telling you how wet you were already, how needy you were. You bit down on your tongue fairly hard, shifting your hips a little bit.

Soon, the thought of his fingers turned into thoughts of his tongue. You imagined him telling you how good you tasted, questioned how likely he was to use teeth. You might not know him well at all, but he seemed the type. You picked up the pace, the logical part of your mind wanting to get this done and over with as soon as possible. Your breathing quickened, and you did your best to keep it quiet. Just thinking about what his thick, deft fingers might feel like buried deep in you jolted you close to the edge, closer to release, and closer to leaving this entire ordeal behind.

Unfortunately, you got a little too lost in your own thoughts, and a small moan escaped your lips as you climaxed.

You didn’t really process that that’s what happened until your hand dropped from your mouth and you came down a little bit from your orgasm. But as soon as it did register, you felt your face heat up so much you could swear it was a little brighter in this tent. You stayed stock still, hoping that it didn’t wake up Ezra. And, additionally, hoping that the smell of your arousal was overpowered by the earthy scent from outside.

Your hope was dashed quickly, at least on the first front.

“Everything okay, little bird?” Ezra asked, far too coherently for him to be half-asleep. Maybe he was a light sleeper.

“Y-yeah,” you responded, doing your best to make your voice sound tired, like maybe you’d just woken up from something. But, as you looked over in his direction and noticed that he was facing you and had a shitty smirk on his face you practically wanted to slap off, you realized that wasn’t going to convince him. You never heard him move. Fuck, was he awake this whole time? You did your best not to show any of that panic on your face.

“Hm. Interesting,” he said. “See, I am nearly certain I heard a rather salacious noise fall from your mouth.”

You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes, turning your face back towards the ceiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I gave my utmost effort to ignore you, but you were putting on quite the performance,” he mused.

What. The. Fuck. You swallowed, hard, embarrassed, but… not quite as embarrassed as you maybe should be. You swore it was getting hotter in the tent, uncomfortably so, but you pulled the thin blanket you were under up to your face. “Ezra.” Your tone was nearly warning, wanting this to disappear.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, birdie, we all have needs,” he said in a way that struck you as condescending, and you shot him a look with daggers in your eyes. Despite this nonverbal communication, he spoke again. This time, in the exact goddamn tone you had been thinking of. “ _What were you thinking about?_ ”

That was it. You sat up, got out of your cot, took the two steps it took to get to his, waited a split second for him to look up at you, then backhanded him as hard as you fucking could. You then returned to your cot, and resumed looking at the ceiling.

“Well, that’s hardly fair,” he said. You shot him another look, same daggers as before. Your eyes lingered on the red mark across his cheek, giving you some satisfaction. He sighed. “Alright, consider it forgotten.” There was a pause, and you thought maybe you were free, but then he spoke _again._ In that same tone, as if he knew it was getting under your skin. “I only thought it polite that, in this time of need you’re having, I offer some… _support_.”

Did you accidentally moan his name or something? How was he reading you like an open fucking book right now? You swallowed again, searching the sturdy fabric ceiling for something to say to get him to shut the hell up. Or get the hell on top of you. What harm could there be in it, anyway? That devil was setting up in its workshop again. You’d split ways after this, anyway, assuming you both lived to get off this rock. You _were_ lonely, you had been lonely for such a long time, surely you deserved a little refuge from that, right? No, no, what were you thinking? This guy was at _least_ ten years older than you if not more, and you’d just met! You reminded yourself that you _shot him!_ But, you also cleaned his wound, and agreed to let him help you...

Fuck it. Worst thing that could happen, shit gets awkward for the next day or two, then you never have to see each other again.

“Back at that settlement,” you said, evenly, carefully choosing your words. “The way your voice… changed… to that tone you were _just_ using…” You were suddenly at a loss for words to explain yourself and further. That’s really all it was, wasn’t it? An unfortunate combination of his looks and his _fucking voice._

“That’s what’s gotten you so worked up?” he asked, sounding suddenly closer, and you realized he’d crawled across the floor next to you. Your eyes locked with his, suddenly slightly nervous as to what he’d do. “Well, darlin’, you’re in luck, I’ve been told I can be quite long winded.”

You were sure there was a double entendre there, but you didn’t have time to question it before his mouth was on yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, parting your lips to let his tongue have access to your mouth. His patchy stubble scratched against your skin. He crawled on top of you completely, his hands on either side of your head on the cot, knee jammed between your thighs through the blanket. You resisted the urge to grind down on it, not wanting to give in so fully quite yet.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to speak, still close enough you could feel his breath against your face as he spoke. “For whatever it may be worth to you, you looked positively captivating dispatching those zealots,” he said, moving one hand to slide up your side under your shirt.

“That’s what does it for you? Watching someone kill people?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What can I say? I like a woman who can defend herself,” he responded. Then his tone changed, this time far more deliberately, almost exaggerated. “But… you looked just as alluring with a weapon trained between your eyes.”

There it was. You were slightly surprised at yourself, and definitely a little embarrassed once again, at the small groan that involuntarily escaped your lips. That shit-eating grin spread across Ezra’s face again, and you fought the urge to slap him again. You’d gotten a taste for slapping him, now, and it might be hard to stop, you figured. He had a very slappable face. Before you could make your mind up about whether or not you should, he spoke again.

“So, what _were_ you fantasizing about?” he asked, his voice nearly a growl. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

And you found yourself jumping to comply. You took a shaky breath. “You,” you breathed.

“What about me?” His hand landed at its destination, palming your breast through your bra, making you hum.

“You touching me,” you continued, still quiet, still somewhat nervous. You threaded your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, wanting desperately to put your mouth back on his. “Telling me what you’re going to do to me, how your tongue feels on me.” You were saying this almost as a plea, as if telling him this was more likely to get him to do what you wanted. Not that you expected him to give a shit about what you wanted. He decidedly knew how to take control, and he had already succeeded here.

He pressed his lips to yours again, for a shorter amount of time this time, before trailing down your jaw to your neck, listening intently for you to gasp at a sensitive spot. As soon as you did, he bit down, _hard,_ causing you to make a noise somewhere between a shout and a moan, but quickly released the skin, tracing the tip of his tongue over the indents his teeth left. That was going to leave a mark, and you found yourself not caring. You made a pathetic whine when he pulled away, and he laughed, right on the edge of mocking.

“Why don’t you strip for me,” he said, sitting back on the edge of your cot and watching you intently. You quickly obeyed, practically ripping your shirt and bra off, followed by your pants, throwing those in a pile somewhere on the floor. He stopped you before you could take off your panties, grabbing your wrist. He took it and pinned it above you, climbing back over you. His other hand returned to your breast, and you gasped as he touched your bare skin. He wasted no time pinching one of your already hard nipples, again quite harshly, to match the earlier bite. You moaned, your back arching slightly to push your chest into his touch. That smirk came back to his lips.

“So vocal,” he commented, amused. His hand slipped down, and you gasped as he firmly rubbed over your pussy through your panties. “And positively fucking drenched.” You moved your hips to try and get more friction from his touch, but he pulled away, clicking his tongue. “Oh, no, birdie, I’m in control here. The least you can do is behave for me, you did attempt to steal from me, and then proceeded to shoot me mere hours ago.”

You opened your mouth to protest, thinking it wasn’t quite fair to throw that back at you. Whatever words you were going to say, however, were turned into a sharp noise as he hooked his fingers around the front of your panties, pulling the fabric taught so it was cutting into you uncomfortably. Still, though, the pressure against your clit clashed against the discomfort with a jolt of pleasure.

“Are you going to behave, then?” he asked, pulling a little harder, eliciting a small moan from you. You nodded, so absolutely overtaken by this that you no longer cared what any small part of you that wanted to protest had to say. Who fucking cares what happens when he’s already this good, making you putty in his hands?

“ _Tell me_ if you’re going to behave,” he ordered, pulling even harder, your eyes squeezing shut a little to control your reaction to the conflicting sensation.

“Yes,” you gasped. “I’ll be good for you.” He released your panties and your hips fell back into the cot. You hadn’t even realized he had practically lifted you up until just then.

“Fantastic,” he said, a smile spreading over his face, much like the one he had when you’d first met. You felt him push the fabric of your panties aside, and moaned as he rubbed two fingers flatly against you. He did this for just a few seconds, then, with no other preamble, jammed them into you, deeper than you had anticipated, making you practically scream out. They were thick indeed, and the sudden stretch had your head spinning. Your free hand flew to brace yourself against his shoulder, digging your nails into him through his shirt.

He chuckled lowly, moving his fingers achingly slow, just enough that you could feel it, no intention of getting you anywhere. You dared to think maybe he was giving you time to adjust, but that couldn’t be it, right? “My, my, little bird, look at you, so willingly submitting to a man you just met,” he mused. “You must believe you’re so superior, out surviving on your own, but deep down, you’re just a little slut, aren’t you?” He suddenly hooked his fingers up, just one single rough movement, then stopped again.

If anyone else had said that to you any other time, you would’ve beaten them within an inch of their life. Right now, though, it just served to turn you on to the situation even more. You moaned at the movement, then nodded emphatically, your walls squeezing down around his fingers. You needed more of him, now, or you were sure you’d lose your mind. He moved his hand roughly again.

“If I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he growled, reaffirming his grip on your wrist above your head, making it almost painful.

“Y-yes! Yes, fuck, please, Ezra!” you groaned, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said, looking back at you with an unforgiving, yet hungry expression. An expression that made you a little nervous in the best possible way.

You made a noise of frustration before you spoke. “Yes, I’m just a slut!” you said, almost too enthusiastically, but whatever headspace he had you in right now made it a reasonable response.

“Good girl,” he cooed, dipping his head down to nip at the spot on your neck he had bitten just a few minutes ago. You gasped, and the gasp turned into a moan as his fingers began moving at a reasonable pace. His thumb found your clit, and your hips bucked under his touch. He quickly found a sensitive spot against your walls and rubbed it in tandem with your bundle of nerves. You were still a little oversensitive from your earlier orgasm, so you were having a fairly difficult time trying to keep your hips still.

“Fuck, I cannot wait to find out what your tight little pussy feels like around my cock,” he said, moving to a new spot on your neck. You moaned in response, desperately wanting to find out what he feels like inside you as well.

The combination of the situation, your sensitivity, and the fact that his fingers knew exactly what to do to make you feel absolutely exquisite had you barrelling towards your next orgasm. Ezra could tell, because the closer you got, the faster he’d move his fingers, the more pressure he’d give you. Whether it was your noises, your breathing, or your walls gripping his fingers giving you away, you weren’t sure.

“Ezra, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, your hand above your head in a tight fist, the one on his shoulder still gripping into him, likely to leave marks.

He brought his head up from your neck and kissed you rough and sloppy, then pressed his forehead to yours. “Cum for me, birdie,” he encouraged. You moaned his name, the loudest you’d moaned tonight, your walls spasming erratically around his fingers as you obeyed. He continued moving his hand, though, slowing down gradually, expertly dragging out your climax, like he’d made you cum a thousand times, knew your body as well as you did. You were a panting, sweaty disaster by the time he pulled his fingers out of you.

He brought his hand up to your face, pushing the two fingers that were just buried in your pussy between your lips. You took them in willingly, licking them clean, looking directly in his eyes as you did. You bobbed your head slightly, mainly for effect, and ran your tongue over every little detail on his skin. This earned you a groan from his throat, a noise that you could easily get addicted to. You just savored it, though, knowing you wouldn’t let yourself get addicted to it once you came out of this haze of pleasure.

He withdrew his fingers, then let go of your wrist. He then grabbed your hips and, surprisingly easily, flipped you over, propping your knees up under you so your ass was in the air. You heard him shuffle around a little bit, and felt him yank your panties down around your thighs. You hummed slightly as you felt the head of his cock rub up against your entrance.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, his voice a little less firm than it had been, heavy with arousal and desire. “Want me to fuck you into this bed?”

“Yes! Fuck me! Please, Ezra,” you beg, somewhat unintentionally. He said he wanted answers, and you knew you had to give them to him to get what you wanted. That just happened to be what your fucked-out brain decided on as a reasonable way to respond.

He pushed into you, admittedly slower than you were anticipating. You were definitely ready for him, but as he took his time, you felt why he was moving so slow. He was… much bigger than you were anticipating. It had you gripping at the fabric beneath you, moaning as he stretched you much further than his fingers, but giving you time to adjust so it wouldn’t be painful or uncomfortable. Okay, so he was giving you time to adjust. Some part of your logical brain, or maybe that devil from earlier, took that down as a note to come back to later.

He settled in, and once his hips were flush with the backs of your thighs, he began to move. He pulled out almost all the way, then immediately slammed back in as hard as he could, making you nearly shout once again. The tip of his cock brushed against something earth-shattering inside you. If he kept that up, you’d definitely cum again in no time flat, and you knew he was aware of what he did based on the noise you made and the way your walls fluttered.

The next thing you knew, his hand was gripping into your hair, pressing your face into the thin mattress, fucking you at a brutal pace that made you see stars. His other hand was bracing against your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh, sure to leave a bruise. Your own hand shot behind you, gripping on his wrist there to try to steady yourself against the overwhelming sensations. The only thoughts left in your mind were of how good this felt, and how much you loved the groans coming from Ezra’s mouth as he practically railed you. His cock was ramming into that same devastating spot relentlessly, guaranteeing you’d be feeling this tomorrow. You couldn’t possibly care less about that, though.

His pace never once faltered, an impressive feat for how hard he was going. You were so overcome by absolutely everything happening right now you couldn’t form coherent sentences, so your emphatic moans were all you had to communicate how close you were. He could feel it, you were sure, your walls tightening around him as you neared your next climax. He let go of your hair, both of his hands now gripping your hips to somehow move even quicker, making you nearly yelp. This uptick in pace, which you probably would’ve thought impossible if you were lucid enough to think about it, did you in, the orgasm so intense you let out a near sob. Your thighs trembled, your back arched, pressing your head even more into the bed below you. Ezra slowed, only slightly, and let out a hiss, presumably nearing his own orgasm as he drew out yours once again.

“Can I--?” he choked out, groaning as your walls continued to pulsate around his length.

You didn’t need a clarification. “Yes! Inside,” you managed, gripping his wrist a little harder almost to emphasize your point. His hips snapped forward a few times, no rhythm to it, and you felt his cum leak out of you and onto your thighs as he rode out his own climax. He eventually pulled out, satisfied, and you fell to the side, trying to catch your breath.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you breathed, laughing a little bit. Your mind slowly came back into focus. Your legs felt like jelly already, resisting your attempt at shifting in a more comfortable position. You sat up, reaching over for your pack, digging around inside for the sterile wipes in your field kit. You retrieved them, tossing one to Ezra before cleaning yourself up. You started to get re-dressed, feeling the pull of sleep on your exhausted body.

“Was that all… okay?” Ezra asked, an unfamiliar, and frankly bewildering, tone of uncertainty in his voice. He was seated at the end of your cot, looking at you.

You pulled your shirt over your head, then hesitated, looking back at him and furrowing your brow. “What?”

“I just wish to ensure I did not cross a line with you,” he said. “Despite what I may have said during the act, I do not wish to offend you in any way.”

You blinked at him. “I… uh, yeah, no, it was fine,” you said, stumbling over your words as you finished putting on your shirt. “I, uh, liked all of it. It was fine.” You weren’t really expecting him to give a fuck, but you were… oddly happy that he did.

“Magnificent,” he said, a genuinely kind smile spreading on his face. “I find you to be agreeable company, I would rather not scare you away. After all, I have seen what happens when an individual pisses you off.”

You smiled back, laughing a little at his comment. You outstretched a hand, and he took it, so you pulled him down into the cot with you. You both got comfortable, with him holding you against his chest. It was nice, but you reminded yourself once again that this had to be a one time thing, then you’d split ways. That’s what you wanted to happen. Wasn’t it?

“Ezra?”

“Yes, birdie?” His soft voice rumbled in his chest against your back. A bizarre, unfamiliar feeling flooded you at the term of endearment that scared the hell out of you.

“What are you going to do once you’re out of the Green?” Why the hell were you asking him this? You didn’t care, it was none of your business.

“Well, I suppose it depends on how these next couple rotations go,” he responded. “What about yourself?”

You sighed. “I… guess we’re in the same boat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Always taking prompts and requests over on my tumblr at spacegayofficial ! <3


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